The Topology of Compassion
by Forbiddensoul562
Summary: Sequel to The Art of Isolation. A year after his supposed death, there are copious amounts of questions to be answered, and scraps of broken trust to be mended when Mello reappears in Near and Michael's lives. However, things can never really be that easy, as danger seems to follow on Mello's trail like a bad habit. MxN.
1. Target

A/N: So, I was originally going to wait a while longer to publish the beginning of this story. As I stated on my Tumblr my original intent was to publish Ghosts and Shadows chapter five before this. But then I realized that the 2nd of March officially marks me being active on this site for 10 years. Guys, that's a little less than half my life. I've spent half of my entire life writing for this damn site! ... So anyway, I decided to treat myself by posting this ahead of schedule. So let's see what happens.

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of the characters used in this story, or the Petrarch quote at the beginning of this (and hopefully following) chapters. ... Also I don't own the book cover image used for this story. Michael is literally the only thing I own from this story.

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Chapter 1: Target

_"Only Death can close from my thoughts the loving path that leads them to the sweet doorway of their blessing; but your light can hide itself from you for less reason, since you are formed as lesser entities, and of less power. But, grieve, before the hour of tears is come, that is already near, take to the end now brief comfort from such long suffering."_

"Daddy!"

Michael's excited voice carried throughout the room, filling the air with a sick atmosphere somewhere between alleviation and confusion; though it was only further muddled down by the swelling aura of hostility which resounded from Near's person.

He stared at the flood in front him in a paralysis state of shock, the padding of feet on the tile reverberated like drums between his ears while his mind had fled to some other state of consciousness; unable to be confined by the walls of this space which ran rampant with the suffocating stagnancy of unanswered questions.

This couldn't be so. Mello couldn't be standing behind him.

The fire. The wreckage. The further destruction it'd created.

The _time_.

He began to slowly turn around; his heart fought against the bars of its cage harder than it ever had before. But he needed to know; he needed to visually prove it to himself, to his mind. The slightly movement was just enough to confirm this new mysterious reality, he watched like a brooding shadow on the wall as Mello, who indeed stood in the doorway, let a smile grow on his face as he knelt down and captured Michael in his arms.

Near's eyes narrowed on the older blonde who avoided eye contact with him; the grip his fingers had over the alien action figure turned deadly, snapping the head completely off.

"You're actually alive, Daddy! What happened? Where did you go? Why did you-."

"Slow down," Mello's voice was light as air, but crisp with the hidden chill of the unspoken words. "I'll answer everything you want to know."

The swelling anger which loomed in Near as he watched the scene, feeling it bubble over the edges before he'd had a chance to reign it down. "Get out." Near's curt words broke through the scene unfolding before him, bringing the father and son to immediate silence; finally looking over at him.

"Mama?" Michael asked hesitantly.

The two childhood successors' eyes locked together, smoldering in the embers of the divine fires that'd been burning at the fringes of Near's every thought for an entire year. The glimmer of a smirk grew on Mello's expression, hinting at numerous accusations Near had no intention of standing for.

"Get out." He shot through strained, terse syllables which were perfectly laced with a venom that even the detective hadn't known possible to be allowed to leak out through the carefully sewn seams of his otherwise well-tailored emotional stability.

"Near." Mello mindfully chided, the tone showing his conscious awareness of the precariously set, volatile mine field that he was treading into be even daring to address him.

"Mello." Near warned, mirroring the once natural, delicate choreography they'd so often danced together. But the same refined movements weren't that of a well-orchestrated waltz anymore. The charade had at once been halted, revealing through bared teeth the true identity that'd existed behind the curtain all along -a virulent stand-off. "I will not repeat myself."

"Good, I had no intention of listening anyway, and you know how much I hate repetition." Mello retorted.

Between them Michael looked worriedly from the blonde over to his mother, "Stop..." His meek voice pleaded, small fingers gripping onto the fabric of the black jacket Mello adorned.

The older blonde leant forward, placing a quick kiss to Michael's temple before detaching the boy from his jacket so he could stand up, "It's fine, Michael." He assured, never once breaking the stare with Near.

The detective's own look narrowed on Mello as he registered exactly what this was. This staring contest was just that, a competition meant to reinstate the need within Mello that demanded the participation in a rivalry. It was childish, immature, and Near had no intention of indulging him.

He broke their long stare to look down at the abandoned toys and papers strewn out before him. "Fine. I can have you removed by force."

"Mama! Don't do that!" Michael tried to intervene, his words almost frantic to not have his father separated from him again.

"Do it." Mello goaded, neither he nor Near paying a mind to Michael in that singular moment.

"You're willing to risk it?"

"I dare you."

Near could practically hear the growing smirk on his childhood rival's face from the prideful way he spoke, because while Near hated to admit it, they both knew that the new L couldn't so easily follow through with the statement. Even if he called Rester up to deal with this issue of removing the blonde from his sights, Mello's presence would only incite a demand for answers to the still lingering questions.

The thick silence which began to fall throughout the room was broken by their son tugging at Mello's coat again with the force to turn the boy's knuckles white, as though if he let the material slip for even a moment his father would be forced to leave again, "Mama said Kira got you, Daddy, but you got away after all?"

Near allowed his gaze to travel back over as Mello looked down to the young child. "Well obviously," He stated as though they were discussing any everyday household conversation; like the confrontation brewing between himself and Near wasn't being perpetuated. "Otherwise the only way I could be here now is if I was a ghost."

Near's gray eyes rolled, growing sickened by the blatant immaturity while at once wondering why he'd ever given any consideration to the idea that he could ever miss the said blonde. How easily he'd forgotten just how bothersome Mello really was.

Michael's next words cut the thoughts short. "But you were gone a really long time, Daddy! You didn't come see us or even say anything! You made Mama and me really sad..."

"Michael." Near immediately shot, trying not to meet the boy's own gray eyes with the glower burning beneath his surface. "You need to go to bed."

The boy's innocent orbs widened with a mixture of fear and desperation, "But-."

"Go on," Mello chimed in, only fueling the growing fire in the pit of Near's stomach. How dare he act as though he had any right to just walk back into Michael's life and immediately get to tell the boy what to do, regardless of if it coincided with Near's directive or not, "I'll tell you everything in the morning, but right now I need to talk to Near alone."

It was Michael who glared at Mello this time, "But I never..." He paused, as if about to let out a secret he hadn't wanted to reveal. His expression and the emotions that'd come with it immediately dropped, "You promise you'll be here?" There was a quiet tone of anxiety imbued into every word, reflecting back the image of the boy's every nightmare.

The blonde nodded, "I promise. Go on."

Michael huffed but looked once more between his parents, an air of dejection surrounding him as he made his way to his bedroom on the far left side of the living space. The door was pushed almost entirely closed except for an inch or so of space allowing for the movement of air, light, and sound waves to pass inside.

Near knowingly watched their son go to the room; he knew Mello's mannerisms, he knew Michael's ways, and he knew just how alike the two beings were to one another. Neither of them liked to be shut out of important matters, regardless of whether or not they were even involved or could even understand the issues being discussed. "Michael." He chided with an exhale; immediately the boy's bedroom door was pushed fully closed.

The suffocating atmosphere which was left between the two began to overtake the room as it fell back into its residual silence. Near's orbs moved over to Mello, mentally preparing himself for a mental and verbal battle the likes of which he hadn't had in Mello's absence, nor had he realized he'd been itching for the adrenaline of the fight for dominance like some sort of lowly addict for their fix. It sickened him. These were the sorts of responses he expected to find in Mello, not himself.

The said blonde walked closer to him, those familiar icy blue eyes meandering over the papers that littered the floor. "I see being L is proving troublesome." The tone to his words was even, yet dripped with an underlying sense of satisfaction, as though just the papers' existence proved to be some victory to a rigged competition Near hadn't agreed to participate in.

"What makes you think that, Mello?" Near asked dully, twirling a lock of hair as he watched the blonde reach down and take one of the papers to inspect.

"You're bringing work home, so to speak."

"The time at which I decide to solve cases hardly denotes the relative difficulty it requires to be L. Your assumed conclusion seems to leave out a lot of the distinct variables. Though I suppose I shouldn't expect anything more coming from you." He said as he pushed himself up from the floor, "You owe me an explanation." He took a step towards the bedroom, feeling blue eyes following him.

"You mean you haven't already figured it out? You're definitely slipping. No wonder you're bringing work home with you."

Near turned, his stare positively blistering, "I've considered a few ideas already, but I expect to hear it from you directly. You owe me a great deal." There was a dark glower to the words that held a year's worth of thoughts, reflections, emotions, and endlessly long nights that Near had swore to never breathe a word of to any living soul.

The older successor exhaled heavily, abandoning the paper back on the floor and standing up. His hands dug into his pockets as he looked around the room which was infinitesimally similar in detail to the living quarters Near had resided in for so many years, yet still foreign and different in its own distinct way. It lacked the history the previous space had built up.

"I know." Mello's words were solemn as he pulled out a wrapped up chocolate bar he'd previously been eating, tearing the paper back to take a bite from it.

The two entered into the second bedroom of the apartment, closing the door behind them so as to effectively keep Michael from eavesdropping on the conversation, if he had been doing so from behind his own bedroom door.

After getting Michael from where Mello had left him it hadn't taken long for Near to realize that living relatively separately, that is with Near in his own space and Michael in his own, wasn't going to be feasible, regardless of how close the approximate location of the rooms were. Given the trauma Michael had faced with losing his parents twice in his life Near felt the boy's unwillingness to be left alone was justifiable, and thus Near had had no choice but to move to a different apartment that'd been built into the old SPK building; specifically one with two bedrooms instead of just one.

But even given this fact, as the two successors stood facing each other in the shadows of dusk, the entire scene still felt utterly paralleled to the countless nights they'd had before. It was as if only those two foundations of broken trust, Near's lie to Mello regarding Michael and Mello's lie regarding his survival, were the only factors present which could remind them that time had indeed kept moving, kept pushing them along into these situations that neither of them ever really asked for, or necessarily wanted.

Near swallowed as he stared at Mello, reminding himself with vexatious repetition to remain wholly objective as they engaged in whatever was to come. For his own sake. For Michael's sake.

"Michael seems to be doing well." Mello finally said quietly, unable to completely hide his nerves from Near's attentive ears.

"How?"

"Well, he's not dead, so-."

"You know what I mean." Near said firmly, demanding Mello's explanation; his justification. "One year, Mello. An entire year you've existed completely off the grid." A grid which they both knew Near now controlled the strings of, which only reaffirmed just how far Mello had to go to assure that he didn't become a blip upon that grid. It sent pulses of electric frustration through the detective, both directed at himself for not being more careful, and at Mello for everything he had put them through.

As Mello remained quiet, the agitation built in Near till it finally escaped into his words. In that singular moment he wanted to inflict as much pain as he possibly could onto the blonde, so as to be even a fraction of that which he had generated, "How much of those events actually happened the way they appeared to? Is Matt actually dead or was that simply a construct as well?" He instantly regretted his poor taste of ammunition the moment it was discharged.

Mello's hand rose up to stop any onslaught Near would have continued with, his lips tightened into a hard line and his eyes shut momentarily, "Don't go there with me, Near. Just don't."

"My apologies. I suppose at least one of you deserves more respect than that. Though..." The younger's words drifted off to keep himself from muttering strings of words he knew would provoke Mello's temper.

Mello walked away from their previously parallel position to one another, instead standing close to the wall of windows to their left that looked out onto the city. "There's a lot of things happening right now, but obviously I have to start at the beginning." Near waited quietly, observing all of Mello's subtle mannerisms in the growing moonlight as the blonde used his free hand to reach into his pocket.

He turned back to Near, azure eyes illuminated through the dark as he held up a piece of carefully folded, faded, lined paper. Neatly written across the center of the paper were the words, "Mihael Kee'

The detective sighed with a roll of his eyes, reaching to twist a lock of hair between his fingers, "Of course that's what happened. How dull."

"Dull?"

"Quite." Near stated, "Obviously that's the most reasonable explanation as to how you could be alive today. I expected something a bit more interesting."

Mello's jaw locked together, "Well everyone's a critic."

"More importantly, though." Near's fiery gaze moved back to Mello, "I'm interested in your justification for having kept _that_, or bringing it here today. You must understand that your possessing of that piece inadvertently makes you the owner of a Death Note now, correct?"

Mello carefully folded the paper back up and placed it back in his pocket, "It's fine. This piece is too small to really cause any damage anyway."

Near's eyes narrowed, "You didn't confront Kira, Mello. You don't understand what even the smallest amount of those pages can do. I had the other notes destroyed; that piece should be as well." He exhaled, when the other made no movement to concede to his point. He should have known, given Mello's inclination towards destructive stubbornness. "In any case, you're merely alive for no other reason than the premature actions of a god."

"Don't say it like that, Near. You don't believe in God."

"I don't. But Kira believed himself to be a god, as did a great majority of the world by the time the case was brought to a close. There are still ignorant people out there praying for his return which I suppose means Kira in one way or another achieved his goal of becoming a god. But what it comes down to at the end of the day is what is God to an unbeliever?"

"An arrogant judge."

The detective's eyes slipped shut, unable to fight the glimpse of a smile that shown through all his latent frustration and anger, "Yes, that is about what I told him as well." The younger's eyes opened, moving over to meet Mello's once more. Their locked gazes shown through each of their outward bravados to the real people that lay beneath; their individual senses of self which spoke to one another through the medium of shifting of expressions.

Contrary to the repeated mantra of objectivity Near held himself to, there existed an unrivaled sense of familiarity to Mello's sheer presence, as though his reappearance had immediately allowed Near to regain the use of half of his body again.

But that still didn't excuse anything Mello had so irresponsibly gotten any of them into.

"That's all there is to that part of the story. Call it whatever you want but the two Kiras' poor timing is the reason I didn't get caught in that fire." Near's mind switched into detective mode, laying out the mental timeline of that day before his eyes, placing Mello's testimony in the general vicinity it belonged and allowing the ensuing string of questions to flood his gray visual screen.

"I suppose that leads us to the more important part of your story, then. If you persisted so well on your own this entire year then why have you shown up now?" Near pressed, "Given your track record from times past, you've probably gotten yourself into some sort of trouble again. Danger does seem to follow you like a bad habit."

The blonde took a bite off his bar of chocolate, letting it sit at moment in his mouth before he spoke, his words coming out hushed, "I went back to the Mafia."

Near's every action came to a sudden halt, "You went back?" He wanted to tell Mello just how idiotic of a decision that had been. Even if the blonde had somehow justified that somehow going as far underground as possible would assure he stayed off Near's grid of activity, any logical evaluation of that reasoning should have concluded that considering Near was the new L, in actuality the simplest way to stay out of his radar was to stay out of the realm of crime.

Perhaps crime really was Mello's bad habit.

Near regained his composure from the surprisingly idiotic notion put before him, working at an inconceivable speed to construct a wall between himself and the blonde in an attempt to view him as just another client seeking his services. If the Mafia was involved, then separation was the only safest route to take.

"So you _are_ in trouble, then." Near sighed, "Unfortunately I have too many things to attend to at the moment to let you stay here. As you've already seen, I tend to take work home, so to speak, which is clearly too much to handle, let alone allowing a fugitive to use my headquarters as a hide out." He mocked icily, starting towards the bedroom door.

Mello's voice stopped him, "I wouldn't be here if I _just_ needed somewhere to hide out, Near." Those cold blue eyes diverted away, showing the blonde's age-old signs of feeling judged under Near's curious stare. "It's much more than that, now. More than it's ever been."

Before the detective had a chance to question him, Mello replaced the chocolate bar in his pocket, turning towards the window so his back was to Near. The black jacket he wore fell from his shoulders to the cold tile floor haphazardly. The action was followed by the sound of the zipper of his leather vest being lowered, till that material slid down to his elbows, allowing half of the pale skin of Mello's torso and the scar that followed the left side of his face down to his shoulder to be revealed.

The revealed skin was enough, however, to make Near's breath catch and his eyes widen by a fraction of an inch. In the center of Mello's back, directly between his shoulder blades, lay the poorly healed burn scar of a purposefully inflicted brand mark, in the shape of two circles, one larger with a smaller inside it, with two crosshair lines running perpendicular through both the circles to meet at the center. It was meant to be a target, such as those used at firing ranges.

Near exhaled a short breath, "You have my attention, Mello."

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A/N: I feel kind of odd about this chapter. It just seems kind of off to me somehow, like leaving a bad taste in my mouth but I'm not sure what it is. Perhaps because it doesn't have the tension and anger in it that their confrontation had in my mind while planning this chapter. That being said, all of that is more or less reserved for the next chapter, as well as subsequent ones. But regardless, as always I'd appreciate if you let me know what you think about this continued tale so far!

Please review  
_-Forbiddensoul562_


	2. Games

A/N: So, this is coming out a bit later than I'd originally planned for it to. But that's college for you. Also as I stated on Tumblr, I have the first draft of chapter 3 done now, so hopefully there's not such a long wait for that. But anyway, despite my feelings of contempt on this chapter, read and enjoy and please do me a favor and let me know your thoughts.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

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Chapter 2: Games

_"Heavenly Father, after the lost days, after the nights spent wondering, with that fierce desire that burned in my heart, gazing on limbs so adorned as to do me harm.  
__Now may it please you by Your light that I turn to the greater life and more beautiful work, so that my harsh adversary having cast his nets in vain, may be discredited."_

The air between the childhood successors was stale and cold as Mello replaced his vest back up on his shoulders and pulled the zipper back up into place. As he finally turned back to Near his blue eyes were a bright contrast against the night sky, unconsciously revealing to the younger the shrouded pain that gripped at Mello's soul behind the tattered linen veils of his facade.

Near had never seen his counterpart in such a state before, and seeing it now shocked him, as though he was looking upon something that was meant to be a deeply hidden secret. Mello had never worn this sort of expression in front of him before. Even on their absolute worst nights; even when he'd found out about Michael Near had never seen _this _level of misery, of legible pain. This was not the expression held by that of the being who persevered despite been kicked all his life, that Near knew so well.

This unconscious display was that of someone who felt the pain of being kicked, who could pinpoint all the residual bruises, the lingering scars; it was that of someone who was looking straight at his future and seeing only a void.

The realization frightened Near, sending shivers down his spine. If there was one thing Mello was good at it was faking how he felt for everyone in the world. Everyone but Near. But at that moment he almost wished Mello wouldn't trust him with such a disclosure. Who knew what he might do with it in the future...

"I'm being hunted." Mello said, tearing Near from his observations.

"I gathered as much from the target that's burned on you." He couldn't help the irritation that flooded his words, driven by the tides of his suppressed frustration. "You've been wanted by your Mafia group before, but you've always seemed to get out of that just fine." He added snidely.

Mello's teeth grit together, his own level of frustration steadily rising, "There's a difference between having a hit out on you, and being hunted."

"Only in semantics."

"Would you just shut up and listen to me, Near!" He shouted at the younger.

Both successors froze immediately, the heat of regret flooding them as each sets of eyes simultaneously shot over to the bedroom door. For a long minute they remained in a perfect stillness, broken only by their pounding hearts which waited anxiously for any sign that Michael had heard the outburst.

The moment passed with the persistence of a lifetime before the older successor's blue eyes slid back over to Near; as if the sudden eruption and subsequent fear had shot him back to reality. Mello's usual perfectly veiled expression was set back into place, solid and as objective as was possibly for his volatile nature.

"It's not some sort of cut-and-dry system, Near." He explained, his voice retuning to its even tone.

"You have two minutes to state your case in full before I live up to your previous dare."

Mello's position shifted, his boots slipped into a stance as if readying himself to brace against the icy winds of Near's assault. "People don't just leave the Mafia, Near. It just doesn't happen. There's _always_ someone watching, there's always people making sure you stay quiet; that you hold your allegiances to them even in your new supposed freed life. When everything happened in LA, the responsibility for that entire branch's destruction fell on me, but since I didn't return to them afterwards it was deemed that I was leaving the Mafia, and it didn't really matter whether or not they blamed me. After Kira's slip up I didn't have many options." He scoffed a moment before continuing, "For a while I thought I might actually be free."

"You have a minute and a half left." Near shot, wanting to hear only the necessities, not the irrelevant details. He reached up to grab at a lock of hair as he continued to listen, while at the same time keeping a slowly ticking countdown.

Mello shot him a glare before continuing, "But the only way to realistically be free to live my life was to stop their useless surveillance. I needed to take out those who could ever have a reason to want me dead."

"But instead you ended up making more enemies than you could kill." The detective concluded.

Mello didn't answer him, instead continuing as though Near hadn't said spoken at all, "When a person decides to rejoin the Mafia they're given this brand, as the higher ups way of reminding reinitiates that everyone is watching; that there is no such thing as a mistake once you rejoin. One step out of line and suddenly anyone in the underground is given clearance to kill on sight. There's no room in the Mafia for people who can't be willing to give their entire self to the group."

Near's fingers stopped on the lock of hair he'd been twirling, "Your plans get botched so you decide to come here? Mello, honestly how asinine can you be?"

A sinister smile wrapped its way across Mello's lips, "It's not asinine, Near, it's practically blackmail."

Near's slate eyes narrowed on him as his mind raced into action, trying to find any hidden meaning behind the statement that was so definite in itself. This wasn't Mello. Mello wouldn't do this. Even Mello wasn't _this_ blinded, no matter what the situation.

"The only way to get out of this is to take down all of the key figures of the Mafia." Mello explained, his voice low and self-assured. "Regardless of the situation, you should _want_ to be a part of this, shouldn't you? Taking down a good majority of the Mafia would certainly keep the peace for a great number of people. Keeping justice no matter what. Isn't that what L does?"

"If the entire underground is after you, you've incriminated Michael into your blunder as well."

"I know." Near felt his blood run cold as Mello nodded, "Do you think I would be here if I had any other option? At this point either I fix this, or I take you down with me. Regardless of the situation I knew Michael would always be spared of this. One of us would make sure of that much; the fact that you still have him here assures me of that much." He gave him a knowing, jibbing smirk, "I appreciate it, Near."

"I didn't keep Michael here because of you, Mello. Don't be so vain. In any case, your two minutes are up. Either you leave by choice, or you'll be subjecting Michael to have to bear witness to you being dragged out of the building. Your choice."

Mello's head cocked to the side, "What would you tell him? He'd never forgive you."

"That's hardly any of your concern at this point. Make your choice." Near said coolly, starting back towards to the bedroom door.

"You know, for once I have everything stacked in my favor at this point, Near. Are you willing to take the chance with such a high risk?" He mocked, stopping Near with his hand on the door handle.

"You don't believe in chance."

Mello's cool, collected words fell into the air, "You owe me."

Everything in Near's world stopped in that moment; the air froze in Near's lungs. He turned deathly slow back to the blonde, "Excuse me?"

Mello didn't falter for a moment, "You owe it to me to do this."

"How exactly do you figure that, Mello?" The younger's brain raced, working to compile a list of experiences and instances throughout the course of their long history by which any sort of 'favor' could be owed to one another. The way he saw it, any way he played out their dynamic relationship up until this point, Mello still had a lot of these said favors to account for.

Mello was quiet for a moment, leaving where he'd been standing by the windows to instead casually sit on the end of the neatly made bed. "Because you knew what was going to happen that last night I went to your base in Japan, didn't you?"

The box which had been hidden deep within the recesses of Near's thoughts was at once dragged out into the light and pried open to reveal the contents inside; much too soon for Near to feel any sort of comfort with. His eyes turned back to the wooden door, his grip tightened on the doorknob till his knuckles turned white from the pressure. This was not how he was about to allow Mello to attempt to direct their conversation. This had not been about him. It was about Mello; about the blonde's foolishness. Nothing else.

"You knew what I was planning, so inadvertently a significant amount of this is your fault." His azure eyes shot daggers into Near's back. Meeting the challenge, Near turned back to the blonde, meeting the deadly stare with one of pure indifference; feeling as though it was all Mello deserved when he behaved as such.

"I figured you had grown out of such childish logic back at Wammy's, Mello. But then again I suppose I have always given you too much credit."

Mello stood up at that moment causing Near's body to reflexively tense up, "I know you better than that. You knew, that night; there's no question about that much. You _always_ know. And now I'm in this situation because of it. The least you can do is stop being so damn selfish. For once in your life think about someone else above yourself. Think about Michael."

Near had to bite back every urge, all the welled-up, burning inclinations that screamed for him to lay every single fact out for Mello to see. If the blonde was going to have the nerve to try and threaten him with blackmail as an underhanded way of getting his assistance, only to then turn around and tell him to do it as an act of selflessness, then he deserved to know just what exactly his own decisions had caused.

But despite the way the words pricked his tongue, begging to be released, begging to be shouted, he just couldn't do it. The selfish part of him which Mello constantly liked to jibe at _wanted_ to keep inside everything that had happened this past year from the blonde. After what Mello had done, he didn't deserve to know.

"I didn't force you to kidnap Takada that day, Mello."

His rival's stare narrowed down on him, "No, but you sure as hell let me walk out the door that night."

Near turned with a roll of his eyes, reaffirming his grip on the door handle again, "I'm done listening to your childish accusations. I'm done fixing your mistakes, Mello." He said as he pulled the door open; he could feel the burn from the stare Mello gave him as he stood up and went to the door, but it hardly hazed Near's well-armed defenses.

"They're _our_ mistakes."

"I thought we weren't going to argue semantics?" Near asked rhetorically. "In any case, you've stated your plight. We'll discuss this arrangement in the morning, but you should know how the basics work. However, as far as you're concerned is _my_ investigation." He spun a lock of hair, fighting the feelings of failure that crept up through his veins. While this wasn't exactly the circumstances he wanted to happen, in the very least he justified that he could in the very least have the satisfaction of truly making Mello into his pawn for once.

The blonde stopped in the doorway, turning back to the younger detective, a haughty smirk appearing on his quickly easing features. Near figured it was due to his assertion that he'd offer his assistance, but let it go nonetheless. "Good decision, considering I wouldn't have left even if you refused. Though, I suppose we'll see how long living together again takes before I'm ready to murder you."

"I merely told you I'd look into this for right now, that's all." Near stated, "However, I can get you your own living residence here in the next few days if you're already entertaining the notion of homicide."

Near's statement only made Mello's smirk deepen, "So you don't want me to sleep in your bed, then?" He mocked.

"Obviously not." Near retorted as Mello scoffed and entered back into the living area.

Near stopped just as he moved to completely shut the door, "Mello." The blonde turned, their eyes locked, though it was in that moment that the volatile stand-off which raged between them calmed for the briefest of moment. Emotions, thoughts, and confessions were burning to be released, to be understood merely through their individual subtle cues. Yet the messages continued to be lost in translation.

"Well played." Near practically whispered.

Mello's head tilted up, his ego suddenly swelling with pride. "Get used to it." He turned, breaking their stare just as Near pushed the door closed, offering a simple, "Right..." to pass as the last word to their duel for the night.

Mello watched the door close out of his peripheral vision, the clicking of it sealing into place instantly sent a wave of relief coursing through him, as though he'd been unconsciously holding the air of adrenaline locked in his lungs through the entire encounter.

His untimely revival had gone over better than he'd originally suspected it would. Though much of it had relied on the probability that, when all the stops were pulled out and Michael was the one on the line, Near wouldn't be able to say no.

The previous Mafia boss smirked as his stance shifted from tense, bracing opposition against Near's verbal assault, to more relaxed. If there was anywhere on Earth Mello could be safe, that he could actually breathe, it was within the grips of this tall building which already held some of his fondest, and darkest memories. A voice in the back of his mind pointed out just how far he must have fallen to come to look on such a space as anything other than his enemy's territory.

Yet, while a part of him asserted that this indeed was the residing place of his enemy, as he drifted about the still apartment, taking in the frozen details, he couldn't help but wonder what stories these new walls held. The area, like Near's bedroom, was eerily similar to the previous single-bedroom residence the younger had stayed in for so long, but there were minute differences that hindered Mello from falling back into his old, comfortable trance. Such as the tile flooring running throughout the space instead of comforting pure white carpet, or the different couches, two positioned in an 'L' shape instead of one continuous form in the same shape.

Mello huffed, figuring the changes were actually rather suitable considering how much their lives had changed in just the span of a year. The blonde let himself fall onto one of the white couches, staring up at the high ceiling.

When was the last time he'd laid his head down and not worried about whether or not he'd wake up to be able to lift it in the morning? Even now the itch persisted, telling him to stay awake and keep a lookout over his surroundings, to watch out for those who sought him before they had a chance to do the same.

His eyes closed in a desperate attempt to bring his mind and body to ease, to understand how radically different of a scenario he was in compared to what he had been living. Yet all that seeped into his sights was the crimson-laced nightmares of his memories.

_Cut off from reality he was transported to times where all he could ever smell was the coppery tang of blood; where the sinks of the abandoned warehouses he'd lived at ran more with the dark, vital fluid than they ever had with water. _

_He could hear the gunshots, the sound of bullets hitting their targets and ricocheting off metal beams. He heard the small whisper between his own ears that's only desperate method of providing comfort to him in those moments was to remind him that so long as he heard the shot, he was still alive for another precious second._

_However, this attempt only created an unconscious desperation to keep a count on the number of shots he heard._

_One. Two. _

_The men were dropping around him one by one; nearly in time with the clatter of shells on the pavement floor._

_Three. Four._

_Those men had had families too._

_Five. Six._

_What if it'd been him who missed count of the bullets ringing around him. What if he was taken out too? Was his imminent end coming in the next second?_

_Seven. Eight._

_What would he do? Would he even be graced with the opportunity to see him again? To say all he needed to say? To get out all the things that plagued his mind, that kept him up night after night and haunted the blackness behind his eyes._

_Nine. Ten._

_No, no, no. No. No! He couldn't leave things like this! It couldn't end like this! _

The sudden feeling of pressure on Mello's arm sent his body into instant response, his eyes flew open and his torso shot up, away from the contact. Michael's confused face, his hesitant gray eyes registered in Mello's mind through the darkness; he felt his breathing passing through his nose erratically, his heart racing in its cage.

"Michael!" He exhaled in a hushed voice, running a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes making a clean sweep of the room for his own assurance before turning his focus back to the boy in front of him. "What are you doing up?"

"Did you have a bad dream, Daddy? I wanted to make sure you stayed here..." He said in his own hushed, meek voice, the young gray eyes looking away momentarily as if concerned he'd be punished for being out of bed.

Mello smiled, patting the boy's head of soft wavy light blonde hair; the soft texture and closeness to his son beginning to ease the batter of his heart in his chest. "Of course I'm here. I told you I'd tell you everything tomorrow, didn't I?"

"Yeah..." His voice drifted off, leaving the space between the two in a relatively comfortable atmosphere, though a sense of anxiety still breathed down on the back of Mello's neck. "Daddy?"

"Hm?"

Michael's surprisingly incredulous gaze watched him, attempting to read what lay behind the blue orbs. Mello couldn't help a small smile at how much the boy looked just like Near with that look laced into his expression. Despite how much animosity remained between himself and Near, seeing the similarities between them made Mello miss all the instances he'd shared with his son before. "Are you okay? Are you sick?" The young boy asked, as he reached up to touch Mello's forehead.

Mello grinned, taking Michael's small hand away and kissing his fingertips, "No, I'm not sick. Everything's fine now. I just need to get something from..." His words trailed off as his eyes darted around his immediate area, then around the room, searching for his jacket for but a split second before he realized he'd forgotten it on the floor of Near's room.

He shot a glare over at the closed room. There was no way he was going to lower himself enough to go get his sweet treat now. He wouldn't give Near the satisfaction of deducing just how far his dependence on the smooth, glorious chocolate bars had gotten.

"Never mind. I guess I forgot my jacket in Near's room." Mello said with a sigh to fill the silence.

Michael instantly straightened up, "I'll go get it!" He said happily, taking off around the couch before Mello could bother to protest. Blue eyes watched the boy go, traversing the space and pushing open the door to Near's confines with ease; there was an ounce of jealously in Mello on how easily their son waded through the river of tension residing between the childhood rivals.

Michael entered into the bedroom, his large gray eyes instantly locating his mother who sat on the edge of the bed with one leg propped up close to his chest. He closed the door behind him as Near's curious gaze fell on the boy, "Why are you up, Michael?" Near knew it was a redundant question to ask, but by this point he'd almost just adapted to having to ask the blatantly obvious just to easier move conversation along between them.

Michael paid Near almost no mind as he quickly located Mello's abandoned black jacket on the opposite side of the room. "I was out with Daddy. I think he's sick. But he wanted his jacket, so I'm getting it for him!" He explained proudly, balling the material in his arms and lifting it from the floor, though the ends still trailed along with his movements.

Near's fingers rose to his hair. "Sick?" He repeated as he watched the young child's actions in consideration. _'Why did Michael chose that word? Sick over what? What form of sick? Physically?'_ He thought, watching Michael as his reality began to pause, moving everything in slow motion as his mind worked with the vague problem set before him.

Just as Michael reached the door again it clicked in Near's mind; he sighed at the predictability of Mello's situation. "Wait, Michael. Come here, first."

The boy's curious gaze turned back to Near, but went over without a question. The detective took the black coat from him, shuffling through the numerous pockets till his fingers hit the cool, crinkled texture of the silver wrapping paper. He drew out the square remains of Mello's chocolate bar. A smirk played across his lips, _'You never change, Mello. You certainly played the game right; of that I can't deny. But without fail you always seem to overlook your most obvious openings.'_

He abandoned the bar of chocolate at his side, then let his fingers again dive into the pockets of Mello's jacket. It took but a second for him to find the small folded scrap of paper he was after. His heart quickened it's pace as he brought it out into the open. Just the sight of the fading white paper made his stomach churn at the memories of everything he'd been through because of the killer notebooks; simply logs of paper dropped by 'gods' for their own sadistic amusement.

With a firm grip over the scrap of paper and a leveled exhale Near handed the jacket back to Michael, "Now go take it to him."

Michael's confused look moved from the dark material of the jacket then to Near before moving over to the items he'd removed, "Aren't those Daddy's?" He asked with an innocent confusion.

"He's in our place of residence, isn't he? If Mello has any intention of remaining here then he'll have to learn to play by my rules, Michael."

The boy scowled, "That doesn't even answer my question, Mama."

"No, these things aren't his anymore." Near clarified with an exhale.

Michael's lips pursed and shifted from one side to the other as he took a moment to contemplate Near's words, though finally took the jacket to leave without another question of his mother's motives or logic, knowing it would only lead to more vague responses.

As Michael stepped out of Near's room, he carefully replaced the door in its closed position before scurrying over to where Mello was still sitting on the couch, his jacket practically falling from the young boy's arms to trail along on the floor. "I got it!" He exclaimed proudly.

Mello smiled, taking his coat when Michael stopped before him. He rustled through the material till he found the designated pocket where his chocolate had last been. But as he reached in his hand wasn't greeted with the thin paper covered chocolate bar as he'd expected it to; his brow creased in confusion.

The young blonde spoke before Mello had a chance to form his question, "Mama took some stuff out, first. He said they're not yours anymore." He shrugged, "But I didn't really understand that. Mama never really gives straight answers."

Mello shot him a confused look then looked over his shoulder to the bedroom, the glare which burned in his eyes held all the intensity to combust the wood into flames, _'Fuck you, Near.'_ He thought, trying to let go of the prickling sensation of need which begged for the satiation of calming his racing thoughts, his burning anxieties. Chocolate never quite took the edge off as well as his past experiences with escaping into his fantasy existence had, but it was the next best thing. For Near to consciously take both of them from him... It made him want to punish him in the cruelest ways he knew how.

He turned back to his son, pushing his thoughts along so as to keep them from settling on the advancing nightmares that lingered on the edges of his peripherals. "You should really be in bed, Michael."

"I don't wanna, though." Michael protested, "I can't sleep."

Mello exhaled, hearing the worry in his son's voice; it broke his heart and shot an undeniable sense of guilt through every fiber of his being. "I told you, I'll be here in the morning. Everything's fine." He couldn't help wondering if he was lying or not. Certainly he'd still be here in the morning, and certainly things felt almost sufficient in Mello's universe, considering the circumstances.

Yet at the same time he couldn't deny the way in which the seemingly empty void of space was charged with a volatile element which was begging for a reason to explode; he knew it would in time. But all Mello could do was live in the present and try not to let the morbidity of the future ruin what he'd reclaimed for himself.

"It's not the same." His son's voice uttered quietly, his gray eyes looking down from his father, as if ashamed by the message he was trying to profess.

Mello reached out to tussle the boy's short, light blonde locks, "Go get a blanket from your bed; you can sleep here."

Instantly Michael's eyes rose, alight with a new brilliance of joy; without another word he ran off towards his bedroom, returning only a moment later with a large, deep red comforter that Mello recognized instantly as the blanket that had covered the bed he'd had in their apartment across town.

"Where did you get that from?" He asked as Michael returned and climbed up to sit on the couch with the older successor.

"Mama gave it to me. It's the blanket from our old house, remember?" The young child's voice had lost its once worried tone, instead filling its place with the natural sense of comfort and ease that Mello had come to be so used to hearing.

"Of course, but how did Near get it?" No, that was the wrong question, he realized. The important faction was _why_ did Near have it? After cheating out of his fated death the blonde had figured his old residence would merely fall into total abandonment or would eventually be broken into by someone -not that it had necessarily mattered to him. Physical possessions meant little to an orphan who'd grown up sharing almost everything he had.

Further, Mello knew for a fact that Near felt quite the same way, if not more so. Things didn't _have_ sentimental value to the younger detective. So why had he held onto this? Specifically for Michael's benefit? Possibly... But Mello couldn't help letting his imagination wander a bit to the other rather fanciful possibilities.

"I don't know." Michael said with a shrug, snuggling down onto the cushions of the couch.

Mello laid beside him, pulling the blanket over both of them while making sure it was properly wrapped around Michael, who cuddled up closer to his dad, enjoying the sense of closeness with him that he'd been robbed of for such an extended amount of time. "I missed you, Daddy."

Mello smiled, leaning down to rest against the boy's soft curls, "I missed you too, Michael."

"Then you should have come back sooner."

"I know, Michael." He exhaled, "Go to sleep." Silence once again took over the area, though this time the quiet which normally plagued him with nightmares was combated by the innocent boy held tight in his arms.

Lying there in that moment, as Mello allowed his eyes to close, it at once felt as though he'd never abandoned Michael that day, at their apartment; as if he hadn't experienced all of Hell itself just to try and keep them all safe. It that singular moment it felt like he had never even moved from their bed at the apartment in the first place; this entire existence becoming just a nightmare with varying specks of brilliant clarity.

He hugged his son impossibly close to him, afraid to let go, afraid to miss anymore than he already had, afraid of being an absolute disappointment to him.

If this world he experienced on his own was his nightmare, a terror which refused to ever truly grant him peace in either body or mind, then in the very least the perfect boy held tight in his arms was the sunrise that would always be waiting upon the horizon to wake him.

-:-

Meanwhile, the moment after Michael had exited from Near's bedroom, just as quickly and as quietly as he'd come in the first place, Near couldn't help but roll his eyes at how positively similar their son was to Mello.

For as well-mannered as the boy was, he had always likewise proved to be just as headstrong about the things he wanted. When he wanted to do something, regardless of any advice he was given, he would ultimately do whatever it was he had on his mind. While on one hand Near couldn't deny that the boy's stubborn attitude could certainly be an advantage to him in the future, another part of him couldn't fight the feeling of contempt he had, as well.

Balance of probability told the detective that eventually this blatant disregard would get Michael into trouble in the future, just as it had proved to do to his father. Near acknowledged that this feeling of contempt stemmed from his personal connection to having watched the way in which stubbornness proved to have contained all the potentiality to destroy ones critical abilities.

Yet Rester had told Near time and again that sometimes experience, whether good or bad, is the only way kids can learn and grow as individuals.

Near's gaze moved from the door to fall to the paper between his fingers, carefully unfolding it to reveal the letters of Mello's incomplete name. _'Bad timing.'_ He thought to himself, turning the paper over in his hand. _'The poor timing of a self-proclaimed god and his blind disciple is all it took to spare you. This is the second time Kira was unsuccessful in killing you.'_ Near thought, remembering the night Mello had recounted to him the story of what had happened in LA with Soichiro Yagami.

_'You were graced with a second opportunity to change your life around and you threw it away. With how sadistic the gods have proven to be, how many more chances do you really think they're going to allow you to get away due to your limitless amount of sheer luck?'_

He stood from the side of the bed, going over to the room's closet where he stashed toys, blocks, puzzles, and his other outlets. _'You continuously reaffirm the point I made to myself those years ago, that Michael was better off at Wammy's than anywhere else. With all the absurd situations you allow yourself to fall into, that's hardly the sort of upbringing Michael needs to be exposed to. I wanted to protect him, Mello. From the world. From you.'_

He reached up to a high shelf for a small cardboard matchbox, taking it down and sliding out the box that was precariously positioned inside it. Taking out one of the matches as he stepped into the bathroom which connected to the bedroom he struck it against the side, watching the orange flame burn in front of him. Familiar fires, familiar colors which had been licking at his brain all this time.

_'It was your move and your choice to force Michael into my life again despite everything I told you and warned you about. As much as I resent you for pulling such a maneuver, I met your step and played my role.'_ As the first match burned away Near dropped it in the trash, reaching in the box and striking another. _'You advance in one round by abruptly coming here with your incriminating demands, leaving me no choice but to help you and suddenly you think you've won the entire game.'_

He touched the burning second match to the paper, watching it catch fire and grow, burning away the evidence of the residual page of the Death Note, and the answer behind Mello's survival.

_'But you always overlook the most obvious mistakes in your strategy. Besides, let us not forget that your history has more than proven that you're not nearly as good at schemes as myself.'_ He dropped the remnants of the paper into the trash to let it finish burning out.

_'The game is on, dear Mello.'_

* * *

A/N: So there's that. I suppose this is ending quite intense, and with many questions brought to our attention! So exciting! So, yes. Not much to say except that the next pause between chapters shouldn't take too long, hopefully, all things considered. So please leave me whatever thoughts you're having and I will be sure to get the next chapter up promptly.

Please review  
_-Forbiddensoul562_


	3. Sacrifices

A/N: I apologize for the delay in the updating of this. I'd originally planned to have it out during the weekend, but that plan got shot. So, here it is, anyway. I'm not sure how to feel about our first flashback, here. This story seems to not quite fit the same as Isolation did for me, as though I can't get back into the swing of things with it. Perhaps I'm over thinking it.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 3: Sacrifices

_"Who wishes to see what Nature can achieve among us, and Heaven, come and gaze at her, who is the only sun, not only to my eyes, but to the blind world, that cares nothing about virtue.  
__And come quickly, since Death takes away the best ones first, and leaves the worst: she who is awaited in the kingdom of the gods, this beautiful mortal thing will not last, but pass away.  
__He will see, if he arrives in time, every virtue, every beauty, every royal manner joined in one body with miraculous blending."_

_It was hard to imagine the scenario they were in, the one they'd gotten themselves into. Mello's death hadn't quite felt real when broadcast on a screen, and even now as Near's eyes scanned the abandoned apartment the blonde had lived at while in the country, everything left perfectly in its rightful place it still hadn't quite hit him. _

_The fact touched his thoughts, he'd told himself time and time again, but the feelings hadn't hit him the way he knew they probably should be. Where was the grief, where was the anger, where was the overwhelming sense of injustice? ... Mello had been the one who harbored Near's emotions, it seemed. Now he was just empty._

_Michael's soft crying filtered into his ears, becoming the only thing which could break through the staling air. Even his son's presence and the boy's own grief wasn't enough to take Near's thoughts away from what lay in front of him, from the realities it sewed into his flesh. Looking around Mello and Matt's shared apartment felt like a sudden transportation back to the days when they had been just children. The two's bedroom had always existed in a state of 'organized chaos', if you could even dare to call it that._

_Near used to swear that their collective unorganized lives added to the reason why they were unable to beat him in ranking, but now it seemed as though neither of them had grown out of that stage. It made him wonder if any of them, himself included, had ever grown out of those childish points at all? Or had they all merely become the lost innocence of their childhood, stuck inside adult forms which had never been taught how to properly function within the world's own organized chaos?_

_The thought shook him, frightening him in ways he hadn't realized were possible, ways he didn't know how to deal with by himself. "We should go." Near finally said quietly, wanting to back out of the ghostly remains of the life around him._

_Michael sniffed and looked up to Near's diverted eyes, "go where?"_

_"To my headquarters." He swallowed to reset his mind on the case at hand. "It's unsafe to be away at such a critical time." His once reminiscent thoughts were at once flooded by the list of evidence which needed to be gone over now that Mello had made his sacrificial move._

_Small arms tightened around Near's center as he made an attempt to dislodge himself from the grasp; he looked down to meet hardened, glassy gray eyes that were red from the crying. "I don't want to go! This is my home!"_

_"This isn't a home." Near pointed out coldly._

_"Uh huh." Michael pointed out, completely unfazed by Near's assertion, or his tone, "The kids at Wammy's used to tell me that home was wherever your family was. This is where me, Daddy, and Uncle Matt live; so it's my home."_

_Near sighed, allowing himself to momentarily compile a mental list of the fallacies in his argument, "But they're not here anymore, so really this place is just a building that houses a few sentimental memories." _

_He watched as his words struck Michael, slipping under his skin to cause the determined, headstrong gaze to begin falling, at once replaced with a deep-seeded sadness. Near could hear in the back of his mind the way Mello would've scolded him if he'd heard such a statement uttered to their son. A part of him had to admit, this hadn't necessarily been the effect he'd wanted to raise from the boy. He'd have to try a different approach with him. _

_"What I mean," Near quickly contemplated as he spoke, "is that, genetically speaking, I'm your family too. While this place may feel like your home, now, that's because of the memories you've made, not because of the physical space itself." His words gained more confidence the more he said._

_Children were by nature illogical, just like criminals. While Near knew nothing of how to handle children, he did know how to get into the minds of criminals, and knew how they worked. In a sense, he'd have to treat Michael much like he would a case if he was to have any hope of making this work. "I have memories of Mello and Matt, too. Would it not make more sense to come with me and be able to share in those, then to stay and rely solely on your memories alone?"_

_Michael's gaze became curious as he hesitantly looked back to Near, "Do you have lots of memories of them?"_

_"More than I'd care to have, sometimes."_

_He pursed his lips, looking back out into the apartment once, then back up at the detective, "Do you have any good memories of them?"_

_"Limitless."_

_A moment of careful, silent consideration passed between the two beings, but Near knew he had the younger convinced before Michael even made a move. The boy's eyes were still full of reserved disinclination as they turned to gaze at the room once more, "Will we get to come back here?"_

_"Probably not."_

_Michael pursed his lips again, then let go of Near and went back to where he'd been playing to gather up the toys he'd been playing with into his arms; instantly the detective recognized them as the ones he'd given to Mello for him. Michael lastly picked up his stuffed bear that'd been positioned beside him on the floor, leaving one lone blue car on the floor; as he stepped back closer to Near he spotted the curious gaze the older gave him. "That's my favorite car. I want Daddy to have it." His voice was low, growing sadder by the second. Every sensible quality in Near told him to assert that Mello wasn't coming back, that this was it. But he couldn't put the thoughts into words that wouldn't just make things worse, either for his son or for himself._

_Near turned, instead, starting back to the front door, "We should go." The light patter of feet affirmed that Michael was following close behind him, like a shadow. A tug at the back of his mind told him the innocent gesture was an endearing trait by the boy, yet his usually impermeable objectivity dictated that this entire scenario was a prelude for what was to come next; that this was going to be a very long existence of biting his tongue around the blonde boy._

_Just like when they were kids. Back when Near held all the power in his mind, and Mello held it all in his hands. Near would keep his words locked away within himself because even he could never be certain which would set off his rival._

_He smiled lightly at the mere thought that Michael could ever really share those violent qualities with Mello; probability said it was unlikely based solely on the pool of genes, and the differing outside stimuli both of them had received. But it still wasn't completely impossible._

_"Uh, sir! Is that...? What...?" Rester demanded, taken aback suddenly as the two stepped out of the apartment and into the hallway. He looked between the two, his lips slightly apart as though he wanted to question, and yet he couldn't quite find the words to voice his questions carefully enough._

_"It's a complicated story, Commander, which I'm aware I'll have to inform of at a later point." Near said, spinning a lock of hair as his eyes drifted to Michael, who watched Rester fearfully while slowly slipping behind Near, as though he could ever provide any real barrier of protection. "For now, it's enough to know that until further notice Michael shall remain under our care."_

_Rester paused to collect himself, his mouth closing as his stare continued moving between the two, "Are you sure that's wise, considering how everything played out before, and what's going on now?"_

_"You should know that I've taken everything in mind in making this decision." Near pointed out, "Considering the state of our investigation, coupled with persisting thoughts I've been having, I'd say that this is potentially the safest course of action." While the words weren't necessarily a lie, they burned with the corrosion of acid on his tongue. Considering how suspicious it would appear to suddenly pause the advancing movements towards Kira in order to deposit Michael back at Wammy's, Near had to entertain that keeping his son in his guardianship was the only logically safe course of action. _

_But at the exact same time he'd never fool anyone into thinking this was the best thing for anyone involved beyond the level of safety. Children took up precious time; Michael would certainly take up even more of that time. At the end of the day it was all a gamble of whether or not Near could afford to spend that time learning how to handle their son._

_He started back towards the stairs that led out of the building, Rester quickly catching up beside him while Michael remained ever the detective's shadow, "But sir, how did this even happen? Before, when we-,"_

_"As I said, it's a long story, Commander Rester, a very long story." He could hear the fatigue in his words. Mello's vexing circumstances always had a way of doing this to him. "The story itself consists of details I'd hardly like to delve into, as I'm sure you can understand, given the situation. What's important is that Michael remain in our care for the present time. Due to my obvious lack of a grasp on this subject matter, you should know that, as my second in command, much of these duties will fall onto you, just as they had before."_

_"Me, sir?" He paused, exhaling a breath which in itself conveyed his questions of concern, yet underlying acceptance of the duties. Near could clearly see printed across the older man's face that these were not the duties that Rester had signed up for. Near wanted nothing more than to agree with him. Having guardianship over, and caring for Michael had certainly not been what Near had signed up for either. _

_"What do you plan on telling the others?" Rester asked vaguely as they stepped out of the building and to the parked black car they'd driven over._

_"I suppose it only makes sense to tell them exactly what I've told you." Before, Near would have been happy to let the other SPK members live in blissful ignorance of never knowing of Michael's existence, but it would be harder to keep it that way. It was better to let them know, to provide only the bare details of the story to bring things up to date. Naturally he imagined they would want further details in order to explain the scenario better, but they would only take away the precious sense of objectivity and their primary sense of focus on the goal of catching Kira; on being able to see Near as their leader above everything else._

_Near shuddered at the thought as they got into the car to go back to the SPK building, a tense silence began to build between himself and the boy as neither was exactly sure what to say to the other._

_As Rester pulled away from the curb, Near found himself wondering for a brief moment if this was really the best move for him to make. Even with Rester doing the majority of the work in raising Michael it was impossible to even begin to consider how such an isolated existence would affect the boy's development. Could Near really handle taking on such a responsibility as making sure Michael grows into not only a functioning human being, but a worthy successor for the title of L?_

_"Where are we going?" Michael finally asked, kicking his feet against the seat and breaking Near from his thoughts._

_Near's own dark eyes slid over to the boy, "I told you we were going to my headquarters."_

_"Is that like your house?"_

_"I suppose in a way, considering it's where I live. But it's much different than the places you've lived at previously." Near tried to explain as his words naturally maneuvered their way to keep his explanation vague._

_"I like Daddy's house better."_

_A minute scowl crossed Near's features, born out of his growing frustration of Michael's illogical opinions and beliefs, "That's too bold of a statement to make considering your current lack of experience with both places of residence."_

_Michael looked over to Near, his gray eyes observing the finer details of the detective. His eyes moved up and down Near's figure as his careful words escaped his lips, "Do you always talk like that, Mama?"_

_Near cringed instantly, reaching up to twirl his white locks of hair, "Don't call me that."_

_"Why not?" Michael asked, frustrated. "What am I supposed to call you, then?"_

_"Just Near."_

_Michael's lips pursed as he drew back, continuing to kick in his seat, "Daddy called you my mother; so I wanna call you that too."_

_The detective pulled hard at his hair, just imagining Mello saying such a abhorrent thing. Of course he would. It was just like Mello to not try to correct the boy, or set a good example for him. Near wasn't sure why he should be surprised to think anything less of the older blonde, though. "It's rude to refer to people by names they don't like, Michael." He asserted, watching the city pass by them._

_"Well I think it's rude for you to have given me up and not talk to me for so long." Michael told him with emphasis on himself._

_Near was taken aback by the blunt words that fell from the boy's mouth. Those weren't Michael's words. They were Mello's. He heard the older successor's voice in them, heard the annoyance, the frustration in that voice that'd been plaguing him since childhood. He bit his tongue, his knuckles turning white from their grip on his hair; he couldn't deny that Michael's statement was valid enough. "Good point." He said begrudgingly, letting their conversation drop, yet consciously deciding to keep correcting Michael's assuredly reoccurring habit._

_In short enough time the three made it back to the new base of the SPK investigation. Michael's eyes rose to the sky, eyeing up the tower as they stepped out of the car. "This is where you live?"_

_"For now." Near told him, "Just until the Kira investigation is complete. Though, the building in New York isn't too much different than this one."_

_"Oh..." Michael said simply as he gathered up all his toys into his arms again and followed Near and Rester into the building, his gray eyes continuously darting around at all the new spectacles there was to see around him._

_Stepping through the entrance of the building sent Near's mind spiraling back into its perpetual black and white void of facts and data on the Kira case. "Based on the layout of the building, there should be places for Michael to stay upstairs." Near told Rester, who nodded. "I'll meet you back in the investigation room."_

_Michael instantly turned to his mother from where he'd been turning in circles to see everything around him; a new sense of fear clouded his large orbs, "But I wanna stay with you, Mama!"_

_"Near." The detective asserted as he went to the elevator on the side of the room, "There's work that needs to be done right now. Later, perhaps." He had to look up in consideration to keep the small boy from tugging at the dusty strings of guilt he hadn't realized still resided deep in his heart. Kira was most important. Kira had always been most important to him, and he needed to keep being that important if Near wanted a chance of not ending up like Mello. _

_Michael would just have to understand that. ... Maybe someday he would._

_As the doors of the elevator slipped closed something in Near pulled his eyes back down, having just a split second's worth of time to meet the gray eyes of the boy. The time was just enough to see the feeling of utter abandon that painted Michael's face before the doors split the two up once more. _

_Near exhaled heavily as the enclosed box took him higher into the tower, 'there are things that need to be done. As long as Kira is allowed to continue killing people and Michael is residing here, the longer he's put in danger.' His eyes closed, fighting the picture of the look on his son's face that was etched behind his eyes. 'He'll be fine. Mello and myself are strong, so too shall Michael be. Michael's built to be strong; to endure. He'll be alright. Worst case scenario, Rester will know what to do with him.'_

_The doors slid open once more and instantly he crossed the space leading into the dark encapsulating headquarters base. Gevanni glanced at him from where he sat at his computer, but didn't bother asking about Near's abrupt exit._

_The detective retook his place within his fortress of toys, the place he'd been at when Mello and Matt's death had been shown to him. The place didn't feel right, now; it felt tainted somehow, dirty with his own guilt and unresolved thoughts. _

_He attempted to push it all aside to focus on the more practical issues at hand, 'How exactly should Halle and Gevanni be brought up to speed on the situation regarding Michael?' Before, when Near had carried Michael, and even during the short time between his birth and when he and Rester had taken the child to Wammy's it hadn't been necessary to inform anyone but Rester. It wasn't how he liked to run a taskforce, but at the time it was simpler to run things at a distance. _

_But with the boy here now, and older, it complicated all of that, for life could never really be so simple as to keep the different realms of Near's life separated from each other. No matter how much Near planned to keep the two circles separate, he also had to consider that Michael was composed of Mello's genes, giving his son a distinct predisposition to the gene which controlled his need to interfere with Near's every constructed plan._

_He sighed as he knelt down to bring his eyes level with the floor, gaze locking on his finger puppet model of Kira. Somehow light blonde strings continued to wrap around and constrict his thoughts, 'perhaps it's best to just let Rester do it.' He thought sadistically. 'My job is to catch Kira, Rester's is to handle everything else. While I suppose this wasn't exactly laid out in the stipulations of our contract, one cannot ever quite predict the situations that'll arise.' _

_His eyes closed, 'I'll deal with it as the time comes and calls for it. Bur right now,' Gray eyes emerged, stone solidly fixed on his puppets, the blonde strings cut from their suffocating grasp around his thoughts, 'the situation dictates all focus be placed on Kira.'_

_-:-_

_It was hard to say how much time had passed, for as Near's mind raced with the facts, the details, and every minute aspect of the case, it all effectively clouded his perception of the passage of time. His body moved to manipulate his constructed world of miniatures, and sometimes he could hear himself speaking, but all he could do was trust that the words that spilled out were the relevant facts as they showed up and ceased in his mind like the blink of an eye. _

_Perhaps a minute had passed, perhaps an hour, or perhaps an entire day had flown by before he'd even had a chance to grasp onto its fluttering tailcoat as it passed him by. It was hard to tell from behind the windowless enclosure that was both his rushing mind, and his headquarters walls. _

_As he felt the control slipping back within his grasp while the adrenaline of the mental chase slipped away, it became replaced with a sense of fatigue that raked his entire body, demanding an ounce of relaxation from the toiling task of work. _

_But it wasn't time yet. It was never time._

_The room came back to his conscious awareness. The monitors played the news channels which reported the death of Takada, the empty chairs around him of his workers, the being sitting in front of him playing with his toys._

_"Michael?" The young boy looked up, his eyes alight from the artificial flow of the monitors. When he didn't respond Near continued, "Why are you in here?" A quick glance to one of the computers on the desk told him it was nearly five in the morning, though that fact still didn't reveal how long he'd let himself slip into his thoughts._

_"I couldn't sleep..." Michael said, looking down sadly. "This place is too quiet; it makes me scared... It's not like Daddy's house at all."_

_"Of course it's not." Near said, watching the boy reach out to manipulate his action figures, the surprise at his boldness kept him from even trying to stop the boy._

_"Rester said you always work really late. So I came to find you, since you'd be up. I like Rester a lot. He's nice. We played with my cars, and I showed him Henry."_

_"Henry?" _

_Michael reached behind him, drawing out the stuffed bear he'd had with him. "This is Henry." His look began to fall almost as quickly as it got excited, "My daddy bought him for me for Christmas." He hugged the bear close to him, looking up at Near slowly. "Are you sure Kira got Daddy?"_

_Near sighed, "Of course." He took the action figure Michael had been messing with and replaced it back in its rightful place within his miniature map._

_"How do you know?"_

_Near drew back a moment in surprise. How long had it been since someone had ever asked him how he knew something, not because they didn't believe him, but because they didn't follow his line of thinking. How long had it been since someone hadn't just taken his assertion as gospel? He remembered how long it'd been; he remembered who it was that questioned him and called out his assertions. Apparently such a quality was genetic, too..._

_"I saw it." He said as he reminded himself that Michael was only four years old, and thus didn't need the details. "From what I saw happen, there's no room to think otherwise." He looked down at his model of the situation with the Kira case, eyeing all the figures with their own meaning to them. He didn't dare glance over to where Mello and Matt's pieces had been abandoned._

_"What about my Uncle Matt?" He felt the younger's eyes glued on him expectantly. _

_Near's brow creased, looking up to eye him, "Matt's not really your uncle, you know. But the same goes for him. Though, Matt's demise was less a direct result of Kira, and more a side effect of his influence on people in their blinded states of mind." He explained, leading to a silence descending upon the room. He looked up once more to see his son's diverted, sad gaze._

_How badly Near wanted to tell Michael that he shouldn't be bothered, that Mello and Matt's death had been only a result of their own foolishness. How badly he wanted to adopt his normal approach and simply explain that Mello had been bringing this sort of fate on himself for as long as Near had known him. The words became stuck in his throat, however, both because he could just hear Mello yelling at him about Michael's childhood innocence, and also because a small part of him wondered if it was even a true notion._

_Sure, Mello's moves had been foolish, but did they really warrant such an outcome? Did anyone deserve to suffer as badly as Mello certainly had for so long, just to meet an equally dishonorable death? _

_No, Near didn't think so. Likewise, Michael didn't deserve to have the dreamlike impression of his father shattered so suddenly, either. Sure, he deserved to know the truth just as it had happened, but not like this. Not now._

_"Am I going to have to go back to Wammy's?" Michael's sudden words broke in, bringing Near's focus back to his son._

_"Why do you think that?"_

_"Well," the child's words were hesitant and fully considered before he let them meet the air, "I got put there once. Then Daddy came to get me. But now he's gone, and if you don't want me, or since you don't seem to like me..." He gripped tighter to Henry, hiding his eyes in the bear's fluff._

_Near swallowed, "I never said...," his words came to a stop, as words Mello once told him when all of this started flooded into his mind._

_"So," Mello had said, "your parents thought of you as nothing but a guinea pig. And you think of our kid as nothing but a potential successor. That kind of thinking just runs in your family, huh?" _

_Looking at Michael in front of him suddenly reminded him of himself when he was a child. His parents had always been busy; there was always work to be done in their eyes. Near was always pushed to the side and forgotten by them. What was the difference between what he'd gone through as a child, and what he was now subjecting Michael to? All he'd done so far is prove that history repeated itself. _

_He sighed in defeat. This is why he hadn't wanted to allow himself the chance to become attached when Michael was still inside him; this is why he hadn't ever looked at his own child until today. Caring, loving, and sentiment had never proven to be advantageous in any scenario. They clouded sights, muddled thoughts, and slowed down processing speeds. _

_And yet somehow seeing Michael like this drilled home the fact that he didn't want this cyclical history to continue the way it'd played out. If he perpetuated the cycle, then what made him any better than his parents who'd put him into this situation? There had to be a balance, somewhere between lines of objectivity and embedded human nature._

_"You won't be going back to Wammy's." He said, instantly watching Michael's eyes raise to his in surprise. "I knew Mello nearly my entire life, and he is biologically your father. Being as young as you are, I think it would be best to help your grief by staying together. The stories I have will serve you better than anything Wammy's House would offer."_

_"Yeah!" Michael exclaimed happily. "Tell me one of those stories now, Mama. You said you had a lot of them." He placed Henry beside him, setting him up as though he too was paying attention, but Michael's little hands shot out, beginning to disrupt Near's precious order once again._

_Near exhaled, fighting back the urge to correct the young boy. Perhaps, he told himself, this was just another way Michael was trying to cope with all that was happening and changing, by finding comfort in the few places and things he could; even if it did make Near uncomfortable. Michael was a child, and as such, he did illogical things, such as calling Near his mother. Near would just have to hope Michael grew out of it. Or in the very least, Near would have quite a lot to teach him from now on._

_"It's a bit late for a story. But I suppose it wouldn't hurt." He paused a moment to consider over all of his memories, "I suppose it only makes sense to start from the beginning. It's rather symbolic if you think about it. So, I'll tell you the story of the first time I met Mello, at Wammy's."_

* * *

A/N: Well, there's our first flashback of this story! Just like Isolation these flashbacks aren't going to be chronological. I just figured that it would be a better basis for everything else to start out by clearing how the events happened just after the end of Isolation, before the time skip. So, yeah. Next chapter is back in the present time! ... Once I figure out what exactly is going to happen there, actually. So, as usual, be sure to let me know what you think. I greatly appreciate all your opinions.

Please review  
_-Forbiddensoul562_


	4. Monsters

A/N: I started out this chapter feeling like it was going to go much farther, but I ended up closing it much sooner than expected, mainly because I feel like I need to work on how I portray Rester. He's not as integral of a character, but considering his new role in this story, he definitely shows up a lot more. So... I need to work on that. So, hopefully you enjoy this chapter. Please let me know what you think at the end! Your words motivate me much more than I can usually motivate myself, these days.

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Chapter 4: Monsters

_"I rouse myself, and find myself so naked, that I envy every extreme fate:  
__I have such grief and fear for myself.  
__O my star, O Fortune, O Fate, O Death, O day always sweet and cruel to me, to what evil state have you brought me!"_

It was the unwavering inherent feeling of being watched which eventually pulled Mello from the first restful night's sleep he'd gotten in over a year. His blue eyes slid open and were immediately met with heavily wonder laced gray reflective orbs staring back into his.

_'Near?'_ Mello groggily speculated to himself. But as a large smile crept its way across the other's small features Mello's brain at once rebooted back into reality, remembering all the events of the night before; he smiled back as a wave of relief that the entire thing hadn't been a dream washed over him. "Good morning, Michael."

The young boy in front of him instantly wriggled around within the mess of red fabric the two were entangled beneath, "Morning!" His voice and motions were rearing with the unladed excitement of a child itching to let all his stored energy out.

Mello sat up at once, pulling the uncomfortably warm blanket off both their bodies, then looking out to the cityscape which shone with the bright rays of fresh morning light. "What're you doing up so early?" He asked as Michael slid around him and off the couch.

He shrugged, "I don't sleep much." He answered, "I always get up early with Mama."

The older blonde nodded, adding the humorous thought that Michael certainly did not get that quality from _him, _remembering how Roger used to pester him all the time for getting up late in the day. His bright eyes moved over to Near's bedroom door, finding it to still be closed, "Then I assume he's already off doing work?" Mello asked, unable to hold back the revulsion in the words.

His look moved back to Michael after voicing the question, where he found the young child attentively working to begin folding the red comforter up on the floor by first laying it out flat on the open space. Michael shook his head, "No, Mama always waits here."

"Waits for what?"

Michael paused, "Mama and I don't sleep a lot, so usually we play together while he works. Then in the morning Rester comes to make my breakfast, which is when Mama goes to work. Rester stays with me during the day, usually." Michael explained as he folded the blanket once long ways on the floor then folded it twice over into a square.

"You don't sleep?" Did no one in this gene line ever get a proper amount of sleep? Mello stood up from the couch, lifting the neatly made square of blanket before Michael could pick it up, as even the orderly pile was too big for his son's small arms. Michael followed him into his bedroom where the white walls heavily contrasted against the otherwise unmade bed sheets and the many toys scattered around the floor creating a vast rainbow away of color.

He lightly tossed the blanket onto the boy's bed as Michael shook his head of short, light blonde loose curls, "No, Mom and I have nightmares. So I stay up to fix them for us both!"

They moved back into the open living area but Mello immediately stopped at Michael's words, his eyes against flew to the sealed off door. "Near... has nightmares?"

Michael looked back at him, confusion flashing across his fair skinned face, "Yup, sometimes. He only ever told me once that he gets them, though, but he wouldn't tell me what they were of." He explained, answering the questions streaming across Mello's mind before he got the chance to ask them. "I know he has 'em, though, 'cause usually I can tell when he's havin' one causea how he sleeps!" He added proudly at the end.

Mello swallowed; his look hardening on his son, "Fixing his nightmares isn't your responsibility, Michael."

"Nope, it's yours." The boy said with a wide smile.

_'Mine?'_

"Will you make me breakfast, Daddy?" Michael proceeded as he dashed across the room and climbed up one of the tall stools positioned by the bar which separated the kitchen space from the rest of the room. Michael was definitely Near's child, Mello thought to himself with a heavy sigh. Near possessed this innate way of explaining facts which always left you wanting to ask for more of what he knew, yet all he ever gave were allusions to more cryptic hints.

"Sure." Mello offered in defeat, going to join Michael over in the kitchen. The space, like the rest of the flat, was nearly identical to the one Near lived in before he'd had Michael. The older blonde had known Near for such a long time; he knew all his mannerisms, the way he conscientiously chose all his words, what he liked in toys and the things people did which made him tick. But as Mello looked around the pristine space he was reminded of how very little he knew about the essentials. What did Near eat? When did he eat? _Did_ he even eat? Or had he somewhere along the line evolved to gain sustenance from the knowledge he took in from cases?

"I want pancakes!" Michael's demand cut through Mello's invasive thoughts, bringing blue eyes back up to the child who leant on the counter with a smile on his face that lit up Mello's entire world.

"Pancakes?" Mello asked skeptically, an instinctive impulse which pulled his tongue nearly brought him to ask if Michael was often made them for breakfast, or if he was allowed to have them. The recognition of his impulsion sickened him to the core; immediately he began looking through the cupboards for the necessary materials. _'Damn you, Near,'_ He thought icily,_ 'Michael's not just your son; he's mine too. I don't have to question whether or not you let him have, or do things!'_

"I want chocolate chips in mine, too!" Michael added.

Instantly Mello's eyes narrowed on the boy across from him, "You don't like chocolate, remember?" He said, calling up the instance at the airport the day he'd gotten the boy from Wammy's; when he'd wanted to try a chocolate bar of his own and had ended up not liking it. If Michael didn't resemble Near so much, Mello would have called into question the authenticity of him even being the blonde's son.

Michael shook his head, "Yeah, but sometimes Mama and I eat it anyway. I dunno why, but he says it's just what we're supposed to do. So that's what I want!"

Mello's eyes merely further narrowed on his son in front of him, "Near..." He couldn't even configure the words to finish the sentence as just the notion that the detective would feel he owed some sort of tribute in such a distinct form seemed incomprehensible. He shook his head in an attempt to add the thought to his growing pile of interrogation material for later.

The batter sizzled as Mello dropped the first spoonful of his pancake mixture into the skillet, letting it sit momentarily before adding bits of chocolate from a lone bar he found in the fridge. As it began cooking a small smile crept its way across the blonde's lips, "Do you know where I learned to cook, Michael?" He asked snapping a small bit of the treat off for himself; the boy's eyes looked up from the pancakes that were cooking to his father's expectant face.

"No. Where?"

"Wammy's." Mello said, "When we were kids, Matt and I didn't really enjoy the food they made every day, so every once and a while he and I would sneak out of our rooms late at night and make things for ourselves. Matt was always too concerned with his games to focus on the food, so he burned everything I ever let him make, so I picked up a lot more of it then he did."

Michael leaned up onto the counter from his seat, "Will you teach me how to cook, too, Daddy?"

"When you're a little older I will." He said with a nod.

Michael's eyes moved down to the baking food as Mello flipped one of the pancakes over, revealing a golden brown exterior. His small lips moved to the side as the wheels of his brain were distinctly turning behind the grey windows. "You were gone a long time, Daddy. Where'd you go?"

Mello's relaxed actions came to a stop, his teeth gritted together immediately, his stance unconsciously shifted to one more offensively put than before as Michael's words and intentions sank into him. _'He's definitely your child, Near.'_ He remarked snidely as he noted the way Michael had constructed the situation now before them. With no one else around and breakfast in the middle of being made, there was nothing Mello could do now to postpone offering Michael some form of explanation for his absence. A part of him was frustrated, but a small sliver of him was proud, too.

"It's... complicated to explain." Mello offered, unable to look at his son. For as much as he'd gone through; for as many times as he told himself that everything he did had been absolutely necessary for everyone's sakes, there existed a part of him which held a resounding level of guilt. In the very pit of his soul he felt like a hypocrite and he knew the word was constantly waiting to be released from Near's lips like a trapped animal. "I had work to do," He finally said, quieter.

"Mama said you died, and that he saw it happen." Michael's voice was coming out in a whispered level, nearly lost in the crackling of the pancakes, as though if his words were spoken with any more volume the universe would recognize its own error and take Mello away from him again.

"Well even Near's wrong every once and a while. Nobody's perfect. Not even him." The older blonde told the boy, "I didn't mean to be gone that long, Michael." He swallowed, trying to quickly compile a year's worth of mulled over words into coherent sentences his son would understand, "Near and I have never worked well together. We've always fought too much about everything to build any sort of permanent alliance between us."

He took a breath's worth of pause, flipping the finished pancakes onto a waiting plate he'd gotten from one of the cabinets and putting it in front of Michael. "I told you that the reason Near couldn't see you was because of Kira. While that was true, I saw that underneath everything Near told me, that there was only one thing we can agree on." His eyes rose up to meet Michael's entranced stare, "Your well-being always comes before everything else. That's not how Near would ever word it, but that's what he means. The only thing I _could_ do was take charge to turn the case so it could finally be solved."

"Then why didn't you come back before? Mama caught Kira a long time ago!"

"I told you, I had work I needed to do, even past handling Kira. There was a lot of things that needed to be dealt with, first." He sighed, "I've done a lot of bad things, Michael, and that wasn't something I would ever risk getting you involved in."

"Bad things?" He asked, perplexed, "Like what a bad guy does?"

"Maybe."

"Mama catches the bad guys, though."

Mello leant against the counter on his arms, a smug grin materializing across his face, "Near couldn't catch me even if he tried."

"If I'm not mistaken," A voice suddenly came from the other side of the room; both sets of eyes shot up, locking immediately with the aforementioned detective now in the doorway leading from the bedroom, "your arrogance is the reason you always _do_ get caught, Mello?"

Said blonde's jaw locked together as their eyes came to meet, "I've _never_ beencaught, Near, by you or anyone."

"Is that because you haven't actually been caught, or because I didn't want you to be? After all, it'd be a shame to lose a pawn that's already made well onto the enemy's side of the board." Near stated, drifting towards the center of the room then sliding down into his customary sitting position. "If you're going to tell a story, you'd do well to at least tell it correctly." Their eyes locked together, initiating yet another competition with stakes known only by the parties involved.

The air was filled with silence as the previous successors remained locked within their own chaotic world fueled by the heat of their volatility. Each faction held their own demands, their own walls raised against the other they had constructed and heavily reinforced over the last year to shelter themselves away from outside, imposing eyes. At the same time the bitterness they each aimed to throw at the other was painfully present.

It was finally Near who turned away from their private battle with one another, as if to say _'you're being immature again_,' by his action alone.

"Daddy's not a bad guy, right, Mama?" Michael interjected, "'Cause you catch the bad guys so Daddy can't be a bad guy, or you woulda caught him." Michael's head flicked back and forth between his parents as he explained his simple reasoning.

"A bad guy?" Near questioned, his fingers threading through his hair as his stare became unfocused from the room's occupants, "I suppose those wouldn't be the first words I chose if I was to describe Mello. No, perhaps instead I would choose..." Gray and hollow, yet powerful eyes snapped up to lock only onto electric azure eyes, "A monster."

"A monster?" Michael said quieter, turning from his mother to look only at Mello.

"Near." Mello said slowly.

Near's eyes narrowed by a sliver, his lips turned up in the sick grin the blonde knew only as the expression people received when the younger knew he'd captured his prize; when Near knew he had his prey backed into doomed corner. "There are many types of monsters, Michael. Monsters who don't show themselves and cause trouble. Monsters who abduct children."

The low words being spoken haunted at both successors memories, "Don't." The blonde warned, his visual perception flashing in and out from the current back to _that_ time, back to his childhood, back to when all that mattered to him was winning while retaining some shredded semblance of justice.

"And... Monsters who always tell lies."

"Don't do this now, Near!" Mello would have shouted had his nails not been carving up the palm of his hands in dire need to maintain his control. Near's smirk grew as he turned away from him again, his slender fingers pulling at his hair, showing the wheels turning in the brain beneath the locks.

"Mama, look, Daddy made me pancakes!" Michael grabbed the plate Mello had handed him from the counter, his tone escaped with a sense of excitement as a ploy to try and diffuse the building tension within the room. Mello could hear the near panic harbored within Michael's words; he could hear his son begging them not to do this to each other, or to him.

"I see." Near merely offered the boy without bothering to look looking at him.

_'Now who's immature?'_ Mello challenged his rival.

Mello's body burned with frustration fueled by Near's ease of passing off Michael's statement; his mature reaction. Blue eyes slid over to the boy who finally began messily eating his pancakes with his relatively poor utensil handling skills; he didn't seem at all bothered by Near's unattached response. His eyes then moved back to the detective. Mello really shouldn't have expected any other type of response to him. He should've known he could only ever hope for so much growth of humanity within a being as utterly robotic as Near.

No matter how much acclaim Mello tried to give to Near when he described him to their son, it seemed even in that respect his rival was constantly out to oppose it all. Mello tried to be jovial around Michael when it came to Near, yet it always seemed that all the other cared about was knocking him back down.

His fists clenched in frustration, _'I can't do this.'_ He told himself, the words echoing around in his head, _'This isn't going to work. This. Never. Works!'_ He felt his feet carrying him across the area towards the door out of the residence; to the hall leading to the elevator that could transport him anywhere within the building. Anywhere within this _prison_ of metal and glass where everything he knew was at risk of being invariably used against him.

_'I'd rather take my chances with the entire Mafia hunting me than deal with Near's bullshit!' _

He'd just reach the front door when Near's voice broke the reoccurring silence he hadn't realized had descended upon the room, "Speaking of monsters, though, we're going to need to discuss your current dilemma." He heard the shifting of Near's clothing material moving against itself, "I'd prefer to begin work sooner rather than later."

Mello's hand grabbed at the door knob in an iron grip, staring unfocused on the silver metal in his grasp, "Don't you have other cases to finish first?" He shot bitterly at his rival; the chilled moments of brief silence Near allowed him somehow began to dissipate his bubbling vexation.

"I do." Near met his retort, "But currently all the cases I've taken are murder cases." The older successor's eyes closed; the glimmer of a smirk grew across his face as he sensed the dark humor before Near even put it to words, "The victims are already deceased. There's hardly any more damage the culprit could do except create more victims; in which case all he'd be doing is leading himself closer to me."

Mello heard the padding of Near's feet against the cold tile flooring coming closer to him, he clicked the doorknob back to pull the door open. He turned to look at Michael, finding his son already watching him, an air of concern surrounding his innocent round face, "I'll be back." He told him with a small smile.

Michael swung his feet off the high chair he sat at, "Okay..." He muttered quietly, a bit dejected, "No fighting, okay?"

He merely nodded in response, then walked through the door as his heart clenched tightly in his chest. All he wanted to do was tell Near to fuck off and just stay back with Michael; he could always deal with everything later. He'd been gone an entire year, didn't Michael deserve a day or two of attention on him alone before yet another predicament pulled him away? But of course Near would never hear anything of that logic, let alone see things his way.

As Near stoically followed him out of the room, closing the door behind them Mello had to admit it was disconcerting to see this genuinely impartial side of Near. Sure, indifference was Near's specialty, but this level or purely evident desire to thwart Mello was something he'd only ever seen the younger direct towards those he truly deemed to be an enemy. This was the side of the robotic detective who had been wronged, and thus had all but burned the extended olive branch bridge he'd offered Mello so many years ago. Given the same scenario, if it weren't for Michael's presence, there wasn't much evidence to say Near wouldn't have completely turned him away altogether.

Once the door was closed blue eyes flicked down to Near who looked straight ahead, "You're a shitty L, you know? The _real _L would have already solved such an easy inquiry as murder tends to be. Hell, he probably wouldn't have even taken such a mundane case to begin with."

"Hm," Near murmured coldly, unfazed, "You're not exactly the best Mafia boss yourself, Mello." Gray eyes looked up at the blonde, "Shall I remind you of the numerous times you showed up here after being shot, or when you needed to hide out from those tailing you?"

"Shut up." Mello scoffed.

They waited in front of the elevator while the air between them remained stiff with their pervading unspoken words. But in its own way the atmosphere gradually began to dissipate from the high volatile level Near had cultured moments ago. Mello bit his lip, "Don't do that in front of Michael."

Again he felt familiar eyes fall on him, "Me?"

His lips pressed into a firm line, "_We_," he practically whispered, "can't do that in front of Michael."

Near's gaze turned away from him, though they were reflected in the mirror doors neither could stand to face the other, "I agree. It would be to his benefit to see as little conflict between us as possible. There's a distinct difference between Michael knowing of our competition and your history of distaste for me, and having to witness it first hand."

Mello finally turned to him, his hands once again balling together at his side; at once the blonde cursed himself for not having a chocolate bar on hand to keep his temper even, "You know, if you want him to see any difference between us you're going to have to stop trying to pin every fucking thing on me, Near." His voice was tight as he spoke as he tried not to show just how far down the hole his own reasoning had to travel just to finally convince himself that things _weren't_ always his fault. That was a level of power the younger _did not_ need to possess over him.

"I've only ever 'pinned' things on you that are actually your fault, Mello."

Mello's frustration and resolve finally snapped. In a flash he found his painful grip on his own hands released, promptly replaced by the soft fabric of Near's shirt as he grabbed his collar and forcibly shoved him to the wall. The distance placed between them grew threateningly minimal. "It's not always my fault!"

Near stared back at him with an entirely hardened expression that sent icy shivers down Mello's spine, "Michael will be able to hear you at this distance, Mello. I thought the concession was that we were going to be _responsible_ from now on?"

Said blonde's free hand constricted tight into a ball, drawing back to punch the younger.

_Ding!_

The elevator doors in front of them gave a ring, bringing Mello to a stop before the doors pulled apart from one another. Both sets of eyes moved to the elevator and in that moment everything came to a screeching halt, the blood flushing out of Mello's face as both of their eyes locked onto the alarmed expression offered by Commander Rester.

* * *

A/N: So, as I said in the beginning I need to work on my portrayal of Rester a bit before I'll feel comfortable going onto the next chapter. Right now I feel he's a bit too... bland? Hopefully it won't take too long, though. Also, for anyone interested, I wrote a mother's day **one-shot side event from the events of this story** that I posted yesterday on Tumblr. So, if you're interested in reading that, it's called **Mama's Day** (if you search 'fsfics' it should come up). Anyway, again let me know what you thought of the chapter. I could use the motivation since this story has begun to really take a turn of intimidation and disorganization in me.

Please review!  
_-Forbiddensoul562_


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